For The Love Of Leather
by Bustahead
Summary: Dante is furious that Nero managed to kick him in the forehead. So he decides to get revenge by stealing his boot and doing something WRONG to it. A crackfic that was written for a friend who challenged me. I take no responsibility for trauma.


**For The Love Of Leather**

Dante had no idea how all of this happened, he had no idea how his mind could have suddenly become so fragile, and how his body could have become so frustrated without him even noticing it in the first place.

His demonic instincts were getting the better of him, and he was downright exhausted of trying to fight off what he was increasingly feeling to be inevitable. As he stared at the boot that he desired so badly for unexplained reasons, he felt a huge surge of irritation as well as arousal.

No.

He was not a full-blooded demon, and even the most violent of demons weren't dogs that they went around and humped the first thing they saw.

Yet Dante knew that the boot had hurt him; Nero's kick to the face wouldn't have been so painful if his boot hadn't had hidden steel caps inside the leather. The boot had hurt him, and Nero himself hadn't been able to make a scratch on the more experienced devil slayer.

His demonic instincts were confused. Usually with enemies that managed to lay a blow, he would be overtaken by a primal need to either slay or torture. But this time, the boot was an inanimate object, he couldn't kill something that wasn't even living, and he couldn't torture the boot either.

And something odd was happening to him; the more and more he stared at the boot, the more his mouth went dry, and the more his pants began to feel tight around his crotch. He looked down before grunting, taking himself and the boot to a more secluded area where no one would be able to walk in on him without him having enough time to react and slay. Or hide.

He felt ashamed of himself. What the hell was his demonic blood doing to him?!

He was panting by this stage, as he made it into the rich hotel lobby, holding a boot to his chest. He hurriedly stashed it under his coat, jealously protective of his prize, and also well aware that everyone would think him to be even more of a freak if anyone saw him hugging a boot to his body with wild fervour.

'Look, Mommy!' yelled a boy nearby, pointing at Dante as he hurried towards the hotel elevator. 'That man has a big bulge in his trousers! Why, Mommy? WHY does he have a big thing in his trousers?'

"Mommy" was aghast at the question. She stared at Dante before her eyes slid down to his crotch, widening.

That stupid boy did nothing to embarrass the devil hunter. It just reminded him all the more of his troubles.

He was horny, God, he was so horny and it was all over a boot.

Strangely enough, the thought did nothing to make him stop and think about his actions. Indeed, it spurred him on, made him quicken his pace. Each step brought him closer to his haven of privacy, and the thought of all that he would do to the boot made him break out into a sweat.

He pressed the elevator button and waited impatiently for the doors to slide open. His irritation grew as businessmen joined his side, blathering and talking figures amongst themselves. Figures…Dante thought of the enticing shape of the boot and nearly wept right then and there.

One of the men gave him a cursory glance and then did a double take, his eyes widening as he caught sight of the demon slayer's erection straining against his red leather pants. The business man licked at dry lips before shuffling closer to him, excited to be near such a well-endowed man. Dante's icy glare snapped onto him piercingly.

'What?' he growled loudly, drawing the attention of everybody in the hotel lobby. The poor, closet homosexual blinked nervously before shuffling away. Then Dante caught sight of something that made his arousal throb maddeningly.

'Nice shoes,' he murmured appreciatively, eyeing the man's footwear meaningfully. The man, however, had been scared off by all the angry glaring. Dante watched the black patent shoes walk away before turning to the front again, watching the elevator doors obsessively.

His mind was working overtime and he gently touched the lump under his coat, silently caressing his stolen prize, insisting without words that the boot was the only love in his life. He was reassured when the doors slowly slid open, the elevator chiming softly. Fate seemed to be on his side; maybe this was meant to be after all!

He quickly hurried into the elevator, glowering at the men who dared to step in with him. When, oh _when_ would he be able to have some privacy?

The elevator wouldn't move fast enough and as he stood there, he broke out into a nervous sweat. What he was doing was _wrong_ and he knew it, oh God, _how_ he knew it! And yet…and yet…he couldn't help himself. He swallowed hard as a vivid picture of the leathery treasure floated into his mind. He licked at suddenly dry lips when he remembered the supple feel of the boot underneath his fingertips.

The elevator 'pinged' gently, almost soothingly and even before the doors had opened fully, Dante had run out of the elevator and down the corridor, skidding towards his hotel room.

As soon as he was inside, he headed to the window and drew the curtains shut, leaving only a thin beam of light to filter through. He slowly drew out his love and set it onto the ground, flushing up with pleasure as he finally took the time to admire it fully.

There was only a small amount of light filtering through the curtains, but it was more than enough for the demon slayer to see what he wanted to. He sighed as he saw how soft the leather was, and he ran his fingers over the flexible, yielding flesh of it, purring to himself as his fingertips glided along the cool steel of the buckle.

He sighed before slipping his feet out of his own footwear and set his pair of boots alongside the single odd one. His eyes flickered between the lonely boot and the twins, comparing his own unfavourably against Nero's.

Nero.

The boot was _his_. His face twisted with the agony of his own thoughts. He shouldn't be doing this. He had no right to any of this. The boot was Nero's and this joy was meant to be reserved for him and him only.

But the longer he stared at the boot, the less significant his thoughts became. It took him a split second to figure out what to do.

'Fuck it,' he concluded. Pleased with this decision, he sat down on the edge of his bed and took off his heavy red leather coat, letting it pool carelessly behind him. He had bigger things to care about now; the coat could be dealt with later. There were more important things to do.

It was the _boot_ that had hurt him after all. Why _shouldn't_ he do this?

Because this boot isn't yours! A small voice in his head kept on arguing with him.

Piss off, he told it. And it did.

He stared down at the boot again before his mouth went dry, his toes twitching with anticipation. He paused then and looked towards his suitcase and at the socks that lay there in a messy heap. An uncomfortable itch began to develop in his foot as he desperately considered his plight. Should he use protection or not? He didn't really need to be infected by any FTDs, feet transmitted diseases. After all, he'd only just recovered from his outbreak of verruca and before that, he'd been forced to practise extra care after getting athlete's foot, a side-effect of a reckless day of trying on shoes in an disreputable shoe-store.

He bit his lip. Wearing protection was like eating candy with the wrapper still on it. He forced his eyes away from his socks and grinned, staring down at his new love…

Needless to say, when Nero next set eyes on his boot, and started to wear it, he was not pleased to say the least when he found verrucas on his foot.


End file.
